


and this is how I see you

by wintercreek



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Gen, Yahtzee's Star Trek Drabblefests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-02
Updated: 2009-06-02
Packaged: 2017-10-05 17:09:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintercreek/pseuds/wintercreek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She misses him most when she's in space.</p>
            </blockquote>





	and this is how I see you

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: _38\. George and Winona Kirk, gift,_ from the Star Trek Reboot Drabble Challenge Mark II.

She misses him most when she's in space. It's too easy to forget that he's not just somewhere else on the ship, not going to be waiting in their quarters when she gets off duty. She shouldn't be working shifts, not with a newborn, but she doesn't know how else to survive the trip back to Earth.

No. She misses him most when she's at home, on their farm in Iowa with the boys, Sam so young and Jim not even crawling yet. She shouldn't have to face the sleepless nights alone. She shouldn't have to explain to Sam that his father's not coming back and no, they can't trade his new baby brother for his dad. She misses him when she's walking the floor, Jim wailing and her own tears falling silently.

No. She misses him most _now_, Christmas morning. It's a white Christmas, the kind George loved, and the snow is a thick blanket over the soft hills of their land. The boys aren't awake yet; Winona Kirk doesn't know what woke her, but as she looks out the window and watches the snow fall something aches within her. She didn't think a broken heart could really hurt. Closing her eyes again she tries to imagine George beside her, warm and solid. She wraps her own arm around her middle. It doesn't feel anything like him. She gets up and ghosts through her own home, slippers and bathrobe and empty eyes. She can't bear it.

No. She misses him most standing outside, looking up at the sky through the snow. She's freezing without him here to hold her, and without his pointing hand she can't tell which star is theirs. She's looking for it when the memory steals over her - George telling her that all they have to do is follow their star, together, and it'll be all right. He'd laughed and spun himself around in the snowfall then, arms outstretched. She'd run to him, shrieking at the cold, and jumped into his waiting arms.

Winona finds their star, her star now. It was just there when she came back to herself. She's not sure how to follow it alone, though, but maybe she can find out, by and by. She tucks away her memory of George, young and joyful and alive, in the secret place of her heart. It feels less broken now: his last Christmas gift to her.


End file.
